The Circus Affair
by LadyWillow
Summary: Susan Kay based. AU. What if Erik never escaped from the circus? What if it came to Paris? And what if a certain ballet chorus member happened to meet him? EC romance. MAJORLY EDITIED/REWORKED!
1. Chapter One

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Phantom, but this idea is all mine!

**Notes:** This is an alternate universe Phantom fic. What if Erik never escaped from the traveling circus? What if it came to Paris and a certain ballet chorus member saw him?

UPDATE: I've gone through this story and edited it a great deal. I've corrected spelling and grammatical errors, as well as fleshed out parts, giving them more description, and making the characters a bit more full and realistic. I hope everyone enjoys, new readers and re-readers alike!

_**The Circus Affair**_

XXX

"Meg, I don't want to be here!"

Christine Daae walked next to her best friend, arms folded across her chest. Meg had dragged her from the Opera House an hour ago, gleefully talking about the traveling circus that had stopped in the bois earlier that day. Christine didn't know why she had even agreed to go, she hated circuses, she hated seeing the starving, caged animals and the dirty employees, and she hated having to pay outrageous amounts of what little money she had in order to be made so uncomfortable. However, Meg had begged her, and so, Christine went.

Now they were walking past a man with rotted teeth who exclaimed gleefully to passers-by that he could eat fire. Meg stopped, wide eyed, and watched as the man put the torch into his mouth and brought it back out, a thin tendril of smoke coming from the snuffed-out end. Christine rolled her eyes and kept walking, lowering her head so as not to be singled out as the bearded lady called out for companionship and the midget prostitute made lewd remarks.

Meg caught up, frowning and grabbing at Christine's arm.

"You could at least try to have fun!" she exclaimed, and Christine sighed.

"Meg, it's getting dark. We really should be heading back." she insisted, and her friend sighed and nodded.

"You're right... maman will have a fit if we're out too late." she said, obviously dismayed at having to leave. Christine sighed, taking Meg's hand and leading her between two tents. "Come on, let's just leave this way, it will be faster." she said, pulling Meg through the back areas where no displays were at.

Suddenly, the sound of beautiful violin music reached Christine's ears. She stopped, tilting her head and listening.

"Christine? I thought you wanted to-"

"Shh! Listen!"

The two girls stood, mesmerized by the beautiful music, and Christine began to follow it. After a few minutes, she and Meg were back behind the tents that the circus people lived in. Guests to the show weren't allowed back here, as there was nothing for anyone to see. Moving behind a stand of trees, Christine's eyes went wide. There was a cage on wheels, just like the ones with the lions and bears, but through the darkness she could see that this cage showed the back of a shirtless man. He was leaning against the bars, a violin to his chin, and Christine moved a little closer, than gasped.

There were horrible open wounds on this man's back, as well as numerous scars, and Christine rushed forward. The playing abruptly stopped, and the violin was lowered, but the man did not speak.

"Please, don't stop playing... it was so beautiful." Christine whispered, and she saw the shoulders tense. Reaching out, she touched his arm through the bars, and the man jumped, lunging away from her and huddling in the middle of the cage, trembling.

"Oh! I won't hurt you, it's okay…" she whispered.

"Christine! Look!" Meg suddenly cried, and Christine turned and saw a sign leaned against a tree, obviously taken down.

Meg read it with a quivering voice.

"'Monsieur Gargoyle - come see the Devil's Spawn'! Christine, this is the... the monster that little Jammes had the nightmare about yesterday!" Meg cried, and Christine frowned.

"You know very well that Jammes would do anything for attention, Meg."

"Christine, this is a monster, come on!" she cried, grabbing Christine's arm and trying to pull her away. Christine wrenched her arm free, frowning.

"He's hurt, Meg." she said simply, moving to grasp the bars in her hands.

"Please, come back over here. Those wounds on your back... Please, let me clean them, at least." she murmured, and the man did not respond.

"I won't hurt you, monsieur." she murmured, reaching out to him through the bars. "Please, I only want to help."

Shakily the man crawled back toward her, keeping his head lowered and to the side, his face shadowed as he turned his back toward her again.

Sucking in a deep breath, Christine ripped a strip off of her dress, ignoring Meg's cry of surprise.

"Christine, that's your only good dress!"

"I can get another, Meg." Christine hissed, taking the canteen of water that she'd brought from her flat and pouring some of it onto the strip of cloth.

"This might sting a little..." she murmured, before pressing it to a particularly bad wound on the man's back and dabbing at it gently. He made not a sound, but she could tell that he was in pain by the tightness of his shoulders.

"How did this happen?" she asked, eyes filling with tears.

The man was silent for a moment, before he spoke softly. "An animal must be trained somehow, mademoiselle." he said simply, and Christine gasped. His voice was beautiful!

"You... aren't an animal." she said simply, continuing to clean the wounds. "Why do you let them do this to you?"

The man stiffened and tried to move away. "Do you think any man would subject himself to this pain and humiliation willingly?" he hissed, hands clenching into fists. "For thirty-five years I have been trapped here."

Christine gasped, a hand going to her throat. "You're a prisoner!" she exclaimed, and the man nodded, still keeping his face in the shadows.

She was about to speak again, someone appeared from the darkness.

"Ahhh... monsieur Gargoyle has made a new friend," Javert said, advancing on Christine, "Only employees are allowed back here, monsieur Gargoyle had a nasty accident and is unfit for performance. Do come back tomorrow night." he said coldly, giving a bow toward Christine and Meg, effectively dismissing them.

"He's hurt!" Christine cried, looking at Javert with wide eyes. "These wounds could become infected, how could you treat him this way!"

Meg grabbed Christine, looking at Javert with wide eyes. "I apologize for my friend, we'll just leave now..." she said quickly, trying to pull Christine away.

"No! Meg, let go of me!" she turned to Javert. "Please, let me help him!"

Javert snorted. "Why on Earth do you think I would allow such a thing? Go home, little girl." he said, turning to walk away.

"Please! I... I'll pay you, just let me go to him!" she cried, rushing forward to grab Javert's arm. She wasn't sure why it was so important to her, there was something about seeing a man who was obviously talented and intelligent being treated so inhumanely that struck a chord deep within her breast.

The man in the cage turned his head slightly, peeking at the girl who was begging to help him. He didn't understand what she wanted from him, why was she being so kind?

Javert frowned. "How much?" he asked after a moment, and Christine reached into the pocket of her dress, holding out a handful of coins. "It's all I have, please!"

Javert took the coins and counted them carefully, then nodded and unlocked the cage. "Make it quick, then." he said, and he gave Christine a rough push to the shoulder. She stumbled up the few steps and into the cage, and it clanged shut behind her, than locked. Stooping over, she walked toward the man and knelt next to him.

His head was turned sharply and a hand was against his face, obviously keeping his horrible visage from Christine's line of vision. Taking a deep breath, Christine touched his arm, frowning as he jerked away.

"Where else are you hurt?" she asked softly, and he faltered, than turned to let her see the various wounds on his torso. Sucking in a deep breath, Christine tore another strip from her dress, ignoring Meg's protests and gently cleaned the other wounds. Javert watched in boredom, leaning against the side of the cage.

"Anywhere else?" she asked, and the man swallowed hard, then nodded. "Yes."

"Let me see, then." she said, and he shook his head.

"No. It's my face... you can't..."

She reached up, gently touching the hand on his face, and he scrambled back from her a bit, and she was surprised to hear an sound almost like the frightened whine of a dog coming from him.

"Please, let me help you..." she begged, and he took a shaky breath, then slowly lowered his hands and lifted his head, letting Christine see his face.

"Oh!" she gasped and a hand flew to her mouth, and Erik's face flamed.

"I'm sorry." he said automatically, turning to move away, and Christine grasped his arm.

"No! No, it's just... this wound above your eye... it's horrible!" she cried, grasping his face and turning it up to her again. It truly was a nasty gash, but although she would never tell him, seeing his sensitivity on the subject, her gasp had been more from the terrible shape of his face itself than the injury on it. The skin was stretched thin over his bones, making him look gaunt and almost skeletal. His eyes were deeply sunk within his skull, and his nose… well, there wasn't much to see at all, and what was there appeared slightly twisted. His lips seemed to have escaped the fate of the rest of his face, and appeared full, although the lower one was split at one side, obviously from a blow to the face. However, this did not shock her nearly as much as the texture of his skin. It was… nearly beyond description, really. His flesh looked like horrible burn tissue, but also splotchy and rough, like someone had taken a bit of sanding paper to him. In areas the skin was so thin that she could see the veins beneath, blue tendrils across his features, making him look primal and dangerous.

Despite all of this, Christine began to clean his forehead, mind racing. The man's eyes fell closed, and Christine gently dabbed at his lower lip. "This should be stitched, but I can't.."

He said nothing, just allowed her to continue him gently.. After she'd finished, she gently cleaned the grime from his face, eyes overflowing and tears falling down her cheeks.

"What is your name?" she asked softly, and the man swallowed hard. He hadn't spoken his name in so long, hadn't heard it in even longer...

"Erik."


	2. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Phantom.

_**Chapter Two**_

XXX

Christine smiled, repeating his name softly to herself and letting go of his face. "Well, Erik, are you hurt anywhere else?"

He shook his head, and Javert cleared his throat. "Alright now girl, time's up, you've cleaned up my monster, now get out of here and go home."

Christine stiffened, refusing to respond.

Erik looked up at her frantically. "Could I ask you one more favor, mademoiselle?" he whispered, eyes wide, and Christine nodded.

"Yes, of course. What would you like?" she asked, ignoring Javert's rattling of the cage bars, choosing instead to focus on the man before her who had, in a matter of moments, transformed to appear almost boyish and child-like, despite the fact that Christine realized that he must be at least forty years old. What kind of life had this man known? What had he missed learning, missed experiencing, living in this hell so long?

"I've... never known a kiss. Could I kiss you?" he breathed, and Christine flushed becomingly.

"If you've never known a kiss, monsieur, than perhaps it should be I who kisses you." she breathed, cupping his marred face in her hands. She had no idea where her confidence was coming from. To be honest, Christine hadn't known much in the ways of kisses, either. fA few gentle pecks from childhood sweethearts, but she was no expert in romance either. Still, she managed a soft, shy smile as she leaned forward.

Erik's eyes went wide, and he gasped as she leaned down and placed a chaste kiss against his lips.

Tears filled Erik's eyes, and he lowered his head quickly, stifling a sob. Christine frowned, petting his sparse hair. "This is wrong... you should not be here..." she breathed, and he trembled in response.

Suddenly Christine lifted his head again, pressing another kiss to Erik's lips and looking deeply into his eyes. "I'm going to get you out. I promise, I will find a way to free you." she whispered, being sure that Javert did not hear.

Erik simply looked at her, dumbfounded, and Javert opened up the cage door. "Enough, come on." he growled, and Christine gave him a baleful look, than scrambled out of the cage, looking back at him with wide eyes. "I shall come to you again, Erik." she said softly, and he only nodded, still shocked at her kindness and at the feel of her lips against his own.


	3. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Phantom.

_**Chapter Three**_

XXX

Weeks went by, and Christine had formed a deal with Javert. For five francs every night, she could go into Erik's cage and sit with him for one hour after closing time. Each night she brought him something, be it warm food or a soft blanket to wrap himself in while she was there. A bond was quickly forging between the two of them, and Christine had taken to kissing him softly upon entering the cage and upon leaving. She could not deny that she thought of this poor man all day, and after going to him, she would dream about his freedom all night.  
Meg had taken to teasing Christine, calling Erik her midnight lover, and the words caused her to flush bright red each time. She didn't know it for sure, but Christine had a feeling that she was falling in love with the poor man she visited, and falling in love with him more each night.

Entering his cage, Javert locked it securely behind Christine, than disappeared to his tent. After a few days, he'd taken to leaving Christine and Erik alone, knowing that there was no need for his supervision, it wasn't as if Erik could escape, after all. And all they ever did was talk, and they were always too quiet for Javert to hear.

Christine knelt before Erik, kissing him sweetly and wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.

"I have not forgotten my promise." she whispered, smoothing his hair and wetting a cloth to wash his fresh wounds. Javert had taken to punishing Erik for the brief happiness that he found in Christine's visits, and each night he had new injuries for Christine to tend to.

"I haven't forgotten, and I've been talking to a few trusted friends at the opera, we meet in secret each day and discuss ways to free you."

Erik simply nodded, accepting the bread she offered and eating it ravenously as Christine finished cleaning his face and took to petting his sparse hair and fluffing it absently.

"Why are you doing this?" Erik finally asked. He'd been trying to get the nerve to ask Christine that for weeks, and when he saw the hurt in her eyes, he instantly regretted the question..

"Because I care for you!" she exclaimed, tears filling her eyes, "do you still not trust me?"

Erik lowered his head in shame, nodding. "I do trust you, I apologize." he murmured, and Christine took a shaky breath, adjusting the blanket a bit tighter around him and rubbing his back.

"What will you do when you're free?" she asked softly, and he looked up at her.

"I... don't know. There isn't much I could do, my face..."

She frowned. "Before you were... here, what did you do about your face?" she asked curiously, tilting her head. Erik sighed.

"My mask. I... they took it from me..." tears filled his eyes, and compassion filled hers.

"Oh Erik... when you're free, I'll get you a mask, I promise." she breathed, and he stiffened.

Immediately realizing what was wrong, she cupped his cheek and looked into his eyes. "But you must not wear it in front of me." she stated sternly, and Erik gave Christine a shaky smile, his eyes closing in obvious pleasure when her lips came against his own.

"Meg calls you my lover." she whispered against his lips several moments later, and Erik shyly touched her hair.

"Am I?" he asked, eyes still closed.

"Do you want to be?" she returned, and he opened his eyes to meet hers.

"Do you need to ask, Christine?"

She gave him a soft smile, kissing him again chastely, than drawing him against her chest.

They sat that way until Javert came to unlock the cage, and Christine pressed one last kiss to his lips.

When she stepped from the cage, Javert smiled cruelly at Christine. "Don't bother coming tomorrow, girly. We're packing up and leaving at first light."

Christine gasped, a hand going to her throat, and Javert just laughed, locking the cage again and striding away. Rushing to the bars, Christine reached for Erik's hand and held it tightly.

"Tonight. Give me a few hours and I shall be back with my friend Jean." she promised, pulling his hand through the bars and kissing his fingers softly. "You will be free."

XXX

"Erik! Erik, wake up!" came Christine's frantic whispering, and Erik's eyes fluttered open. Groaning softly, Christine immediately shushed him.

"Jean is picking the lock." she breathed, and Erik's head whipped to the door where a lithe man was biting his lip in concentration as he did his best to break into the cage, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. Turning back to Christine, Erik's eyes filled with tears.

"I didn't dare hope..."

She smiled. "I promised, didn't I?" she asked softly, and Erik reached through the bars, grasping Christine's hands in his own and squeezing them.

"Where shall I go?" he asked fearfully, and Christine gave him a nervous smile.

"To my flat, if you wish..." she breathed, her face flushed. Erik bit his lip and nodded.

"If you're certain..."

"I am."

Suddenly Jean gave a soft, triumphant cry, throwing his arms up in the air.

"Ah ha! Just as easy as Firmin's wine cupboard! No lock is a match for my nimble hands!" he exclaimed in a hushed voice, hopping around in a merry jig, before turning, tossing the padlock aside into the tall grass growing a few feet away, and swinging the door open, "Hurry, monsieur!" he whispered, and Erik jumped up, stumbling out of the cage. Christine quickly put a dark, hooded cloak around Erik's shoulders and grasped his hand, gasping as he stood up to his full height for the fist time since they met.

"Oh...!" she gasped, and Erik looked down at her, straightening his shoulders and smiling briefly. Offering his arm, he arched an eyebrow.

"Mademoiselle?"

She giggled, flushing and taking his arm, and with Jean by their side they quickly rushed from the park and flagged down a carriage at the street. Jean helped them both in and smiled.

"I'll get my own carriage home. Be safe." he murmured, and Christine smiled, pressing his hands and kissing his cheek.

"Thank you, Jean... I don't know how I will ever repay you…"

"Don't, Christine. You haven't smiled like this since before your father died. Seeing you happy is the only payment I want. Now go, and be safe!"

Christine smiled softly and nodded, closing the carriage door and telling the driver where to go.

XXX

Reaching Christine's small flat, the driver opened the door to the carriage and Christine quickly crawled out, taking Erik's hand and leading him to the front door. Digging in her pocket, Christine pulled out the key and let them both in, then closed and locked the door behind them. Turning, she and Erik looked at each other silently for a few moments, before she rushed into his arms, sobbing softly.

"Shh, Christine..." Erik whispered, holding her close and resting his cheek against the top of her head, unsure what else to do. Frankly, he was just shocked that she had come to _him_ for comfort… whenever his mother had cried, it was usually his fault…

"Oh God, I was so afraid..." she whispered, and they held each other silently then. Finally, Christine broke away and wiped at her eyes, looking up at Erik shyly.

"I... have some of my father's old clothes... I think they should fit you until we can find something more suitable." she murmured, and he nodded. "Come, I'll draw you a bath..."  
Leading Erik into her bedroom, she slipped into the bathroom and began to fill the tub, then walked into her father's old room and found his old night clothes. Taking them into the bathroom, she sat them down on the counter, along with a towel and a few other personal items he could use to freshen up. She took a few moments to adjust the collar on the nightshirt thoughtfully. The last time she had seen it, her father had been wearing it, and she'd giggled and straightened his collar, teasing him about going to bed looking all frumpy.  
She gave her head a slow shake, breaking away from her thoughts, and instead stepped across the floor.

Turning off the water, she walked back into her room to find Erik right where she'd left him, looking around her room and seeming, to Christine, to be right at home.

"Your bath is ready, and I put some night clothes in there for you as well." she said shyly, and Erik nodded, moving to Christine and cupping her cheek.

"Thank you." he whispered, and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was nearly in tears from gratitude.

"You're welcome, Erik. Hurry now, before the water gets cold."

When his bath was finished, Erik emerged from the bathroom in his night clothes and peeked into Christine room to see her lying on the bed, obviously quite fast asleep. He faltered, before walking toward her and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Blinking, Christine woke and looked up at Erik sweetly. "Come lay with me." she said, and he flushed.

"Perhaps I should sleep on your sofa, or the floor..."

She shook her head, eyes wide. "No, I want you to sleep here beside me."

Nodding slowly, Erik moved to lie beside Christine and pulled the covers up over them. Christine smiled broadly, curling against him and pillowing her head on his chest. She was aware, of course, of the impropriety of the sleeping arrangements, but at the moment she was so glad she'd managed to free him, that she absolutely refused to let him out of her sight.

"Goodnight, Erik."


	4. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Phantom.

_Chapter Four_

XXX

Warmth? Comfort?

Erik was sure he had died and been lucky enough to make it to Heaven.

And then he opened his eyes. Sunlight streamed through a partially open window and he could see dust particles floating listlessly in the air.

He was aware of a blanket pulled to beneath his arms, and he could smell the faint scent of soap and fresh flowers all around.

Rolling over, his eyes widened considerably when he took in the sight of Christine sound asleep beside him. Her hair was spilled over the pillow and her face, and her lips were slightly parted as she breathed deeply, lost in her dreams.

Reaching out with shaking fingers, he brushed her hair back from her face, smiling at the memory of doing this the night before.

Christine made a soft snuffling sound, than blinked her eyes open.

"Mmph… oh, good morning." Christine murmured, lifting a hand and rubbing her face a bit.

Erik just smiled, catching her hand and holding it tightly in his own. Suddenly realizing that he was maskless before her in the daylight, Erik's head jerked violently to the side and his free hand came up in an attempt to shield Christine's eyes from his horrible face.

Christine just sighed, moving his hand and grasping his chin in her fingers to turn his head. Looking deeply into his eyes, Christine leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"I suppose we should look into breakfast… I regret that I'll have to leave you on your own for a few hours, I have rehearsal with the corps…"

He nodded in acceptance, following her out of bed.

"Let me get you a change of clothes." Christine rushed from the room, returning moments later with a simple pair of black pants and a white shirt.

"I'll just get dressed and make us something to eat… there are books in the other room if you would like to do something while I cook..."

Erik could sense Christine's discomfort and frowned.

"Of course… I shall wait for you there." He stated simply, then turned and left the room.

Christine sighed. They had a long way to go.


	5. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Phantom.

_**Chapter Five**_

XXX

Rehearsal had been long and tiring, and Christine was eager to return home to rest.

Or at least, that's what she told all the ballet girls when they asked why she was so jumpy. Really, she just wanted to get home to Erik. She was worried about having left him alone all day, and she wondered what he'd been up to.

Wrapping her cloak around herself, she put up her hood and rushed down the front stairs of the opera house. Raising her hand, she flagged down a carriage and climbed in, folding her hands in her lap and waiting until they reached her small home on the edge of the city. Placing a few coins in the drivers waiting palm, she burst into the house and stopped in her tracks.

Sitting in her wing-backed chair was her childhood friend, Raoul de Chagny. They'd talked a few times at the Opera, and gone to a few nice dinners in fancy restaurants, but she hadn't seen him in weeks, not since he had needed to go to Normandy to visit his cousin. Apparently, Raoul was back, and had taken advantage of the copy of Christine's key he carried in case of an emergency.

"Oh, Raoul!" she cried, rushing toward him and smiling. "You're home, I hadn't expected you to be back so soon! What are you doing here, though?"

Raoul smiled thinly, standing and taking her hands in his own. "Well, I'd thought that I would surprise you and be here when you returned from rehearsals, but when I let myself in…" he pulled down his collar and showed Christine the ring of hand shaped bruises around his neck, "quite a curious guard dog you've acquired, Christine…"

She flushed crimson, looking around. "Where is he?"

Raoul shrugged. "After I insisted that I was a friend and showed him my copy of they key, he retreated into your bedroom. I haven't heard from him since, I've only been here perhaps an hour."

"Was he hurt?" she demanded, and Raoul looked stunned.

"No, he just almost killed me, Christine. Don't worry though, I'm sure I'll be able to breathe properly eventually."

She flushed. "I am sorry, Raoul… he's just… he's had a horrible life and I don't want to see him harmed any more than he already is."

"His face, you mean?"

She frowned. "His face is that way from birth, not an accident."

Raoul nodded, his face pale and a bit pinched. "I'll go get us something to drink." He murmured, ignoring the fact that Christine disliked alcohol. Once he'd left the room, she rushed to her bedroom and threw open the door.

A cry of relief flew from her lips when she saw Erik safe on the bed, apparently reading. He looked up with fearful eyes and sighed when he saw who it was.

"I… your friend, I'm afraid I hurt him, I thought he was a thief and I only wanted-"

Christine cut him off with a finger to his lips. "Shh, it's quite alright. Thank you for trying to protect my home… although Raoul is quite cross."

He sighed, and she sat next to him, kissing his cheek. "Would you like to come sit with us?"

At his fearful look, she sighed. "I shall have to get you a mas." Her voice was resigned, and he nodded.

"I would like that very much."

She nodded with another soft sigh, and he shyly took her hand.

"I'll fetch you a mask tomorrow."


	6. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Phantom, unfortunately.

_**Chapter Six**_

XXX

Christine slipped into her house after another rehearsal, bags under her arms. She looked around and frowned when she didn't see Erik right away. Calling out to him, she closed the front door with her foot.

"Erik? Where are you?"

The door to her bedroom opened and he came to Christine quickly, seeing the parcels and tilting his head curiously.

"I've bought some things for you." She said simply, and Erik relieved her of a few bags, walking with her toward the divan and sitting down.

"A mask, perhaps?" his eyes were hopeful, and she nodded in resignation.

"Yes, it's in here somewhere…" she murmured, digging through a brown bag and pulling out a small box, "I'm afraid I didn't know what your previous mask was made of… or even what it looked like, hopefully this will do."

She handed the box to Erik and he eagerly opened it up, looking down at the black porcelain mask wrapped in tissue paper.

"Oh…" he breathed, eyes wide as he pulled it out and held it reverently. "I-it's beautiful…"

She smiled cautiously, opening another bag and pulling out a few boxes. Inside were new clothes, black and elegant. Tears filled Erik's eyes as he saw everything that Christine had done for him, and he moved to slip on the mask.

He faltered when she grabbed his arm, tugging it down and laying her hand on the mask.

"Please… don't wear it. Not when it's just the two of us. I don't… I don't want you to hide from me." She said softly, and Erik swallowed hard and nodded.

Giving a gentle smile, she curled against Erik's chest and he held her carefully, resting his cheek against the top of her head.

XXX

Raoul was angry.

No, not angry.

**Furious.**

He'd invited Christine to dinner with him, and she'd turned him down!

"_I'm sorry, Raoul, but I've plans with Erik tonight."_

He just couldn't understand, he'd been successfully courting Christine for months, and suddenly she rescues this circus freak and he's put on the back burner. It just wasn't right!

_Could she be falling in love with him?_

Raoul blanched. No, it couldn't be! He'd seen the man's face for himself, there was no way anyone could love him. He was hideous!

Deciding to go insist that Christine came with him, Raoul called his carriage and set off for Christine's flat. It took only a half hour to reach her small home, and he rapped sharply on the door with the head of his cane, and smiled warmly when the door opened and he looked into Christine's clear blue eyes.

"Good evening, darling. I was hoping you might have time for a walk?"

She sighed. "Raoul, I told you already this afternoon, I have plans this evening. Perhaps another night?"

"But Christine, I've come all this way! At least let me come in for a visit?"

"Well, you shouldn't have come all this way in the first place, Raoul. You knew I was busy. Now please...-"

She was cut off by Erik calling to her from inside the house.

"Christine? Aren't you coming back to bed?"

Of course, he hadn't meant it in a sexual way, they'd only been lying in bed together reading a play back and forth, but Raoul's face went red.

"You...! In bed with him!"

"No! Raoul, Erik is not feeling well, he's weak and resting in bed, I was sitting with him, we were reading together!"

Raoul just rolled his eyes, pushing past her into the house and storming to the bedroom, expecting to find Erik in a compromising position. Instead, he was laying on the coverlet fully clothed with a mask on and a large book in his hands. At a closer look, Raoul saw that the book was actually one of Shakespeare's plays, _"The Twelfth Night"._

Erik arched an eyebrow, and Christine came in, her arms folded over her chest.

"T-there are only two of you, how are you reading it together?" he demanded, unable to believe that there was nothing going on.

"We're each reading for several. It's quite simple. I'm reading for Viola, Maria, Olivia, and other unimportant characters, and Erik is reading for Sebastian, Malvolio, Orsino, Sir Toby… you get the picture."

"Oh… I see..." he murmured, now bright red. "I'll just... show myself out."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Phantom.

**Note:** this chapter lives up to the PG13 rating. Erik muses about desire and sex and lots of that good old stuff, so be cautious. :D

XXX

He was sleeping. It was all Erik seemed to do during the day when Christine was gone. If only there was a way he could see her… but even with his mask, he didn't dare venture out, not without her by his side. He didn't want society to look down on Christine just because she was crazy enough to share Erik's company.

Yawning, he rolled over on the bed and rubbed his currently unmasked face, stretching a bit. He'd had the strangest dream…

He'd been playing a violin, luring Christine to him with the music, and he shivered at the raw passion that he'd witnessed in her eyes.

His face was flushed at the memory, and he gave himself a light shake, sitting up fully and grasping his mask, putting it firmly on his face. Time to ponder his dream later, right now he had a mind to prepare something for Christine to eat when she returned home.

Cooking, Erik concluded, was an art even he could not master. Living with the circus since he was just a boy, he'd never learned even the most basic ways of making food, and he was suffering for it. Finally making some rather messy sandwiches, he managed to also prepare some rather weak tea. Christine would be home soon, and he was eager to hear her excited voice as she spoke about everyone at the Opera House, and how her day had gone.

Erik knew he was living through Christine. There was nowhere in the world that he would be accepted, but he was content hiding here in Christine's home if it meant he could lay in her arms at night and feel her warm breath against his neck.

Swallowing down a mouthful of tea, he sat down on a cushioned chair before the empty fireplace and thought.

What could he offer Christine? He knew nothing of the world; he'd grown up in a cage being stared at. He hated people… yet what was this strange welling in his chest, the feeling of intense loyalty and longing he hand for Christine? He didn't know love, he'd never had it… so how did he know what it was so suddenly? How did the meaning of the word become so clear in his mind every time he looked into her eyes?

He sighed, quite confused again.

And the state he'd been in upon waking… he'd never experienced such a thing before. His silk trousers had been uncomfortably tight, and he'd felt a strange urge to bask in the memories of his dream. When he'd broken out of his thoughts, he'd been moving his hand over his legs… what was going on?

Erik wasn't a fool. He'd seen the prostitutes at the circus; he knew what happened between a man and a woman, but only the bare outlines. He knew that a man and woman coupled and made babies, he knew that it was supposed to be pleasurable, that a man would put himself inside a woman and they would move together, he'd seen shadows cast by lanterns inside the small tents, he'd watched bodies tangle…

And yet, he'd always felt strangely apart from such a thing. As if he was in a sterile box, unable to feel from anything. Until now. With Christine, he felt everything, and he didn't understand what all the strange emotions, thoughts and sensations meant.

Erik was started from his thoughts by the door opening a few feet away, and he turned, watching as Christine entered and moved quickly toward him. Sinking to her knees at his side, she leaned forward, resting her cheek against his chest and closing her eyes.

"I missed you so today, Erik…" she whispered, and he smiled shakily as he put his arms cautiously around her shoulders and slender waist.

The feeling he'd had after his dream rose up again, and he flushed.

It was going to be a long day.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Phantom.

XXX

Christine had appreciated the slipshod supper Erik had prepared, and eagerly ate several sandwiches and drank nearly the entire pot of tea. Erik had been quite surprised, and immensely flattered as he sat across from her and watched her eat. Once she'd finished, he took her hands and pulled her into the sitting room again, helping her to sit and moving beside her.

"Christine, I… we need to talk." He murmured, and her eyes went wide.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, anxiety in her voice as she nearly crushed his hands with her own, "have I done something to upset you?"

Erik shook his head quickly. "No! No, it's nothing like that… I only… well, I feel rather guilty, living off of you like this..."

She just laughed, reaching out to pull his mask from his face and kiss his cheek. "Oh be quiet, Erik. I'm not so poor that I cannot support you-"

"That's not what I meant." He said simply, putting a finger over her lips. "I should be the one supporting you."

She flushed, but said nothing, and he sighed. "I'm afraid there's no way I could get a job, either. With my face… who would hire me?"

Christine appeared thoughtful for a moment, before crawling into Erik's lap, taking him by surprise and making him gasp. Resting her cheek against his chest, she closed her eyes. "With your music, Erik, I'm sure you'd be hired despite anything."

He frowned, deep in thought. "You may be right… but for a different reason. I'm sure I could arrange a way to send music to the publisher without them seeing me, could I not?"

This isn't what Christine had meant, and she really didn't like the idea of Erik hiding from the world, or the idea of him running away instead of facing his problem, but she didn't know how to express her feelings. Instead she nodded.

"Of course. I can talk to Monsieur Reyer – he's the conductor and leader of the orchestra – and see if he knows of a good publisher who's looking for some new musicians."

Erik smiled broadly down at Christine, kissing her forehead. "Thank you."

XXX

Several hours later found Christine and Erik both sitting on separate ends of the divan, both immersed in books. Or at least Christine was. Erik was pretending to read, watching Christine instead.

Her hair was over one shoulder, and her chest rose and fell slowly with her breathing as she turned a page. Sighing softly, his eyes trailed over her chest a bit, then up to follow the line of her jaw. She was so beautiful…

Erik had taken advantage of Christine's books earlier while waiting for her to finish a bath, and he'd found several romantic stories that became rather graphic, at least for someone as pure as Christine to be reading. He was curious about taking Christine into his arms and kissing her like the men in the books had kissed the women they loved. He wondered if Christine would respond to his touches like the women in the story did, and with purpose he set the book aside, sliding down the divan until his leg was pressed to hers, and their shoulders were touching.

Looking up from her book, Christine met Erik's eyes. "Yes?"

He simply took her book, marked the page, then placed it aside and stroked her cheek. Christine's eyes fluttered closed and she leaned her hand into his palm, smiling delicately.

"You're so beautiful, Christine..." he whispered, and she flushed. Quoting the last novel he'd flipped through, Erik leaned down and brushed his lips over her cheeks, murmuring distractedly to her as he silently thanked his near-photographic memory.

"The way you make me feel, Christine… how I wish I could show you what you mean to me…"

Was it getting warm in there? He felt a heat rush through him that he knew had nothing to do with the ambient temperature of the living room, and he groaned softy before continuing.

"I could live a thousand years and never be able to tell you enough how perfect you are-"

His hands rested at her sides, gently stroking, as his lips fastened to the skin just below her ear. He was just about to continue his narrative, when he noticed that her trembling had become more pronounced…

Christine was giggling, and he drew back, hurt in his eyes. Seeing his face, she tried but failed miserably to squash her mirth.

Erik stood, embarrassed and made to leave the room, but Christine grasped his arm, still giggling softly.

"No, don't go… I didn't mean to hurt your feelings…"

He sat back down reluctantly, and she put her hands against his chest, leaning close to him.

"Have you been reading my books, monsieur?" she teased, and he went red.

"I… I only wanted to…"

She just smiled, leaning in and kissing him as she settled into his lap.

Flushing, Erik returned her kiss, holding her close to him and moving his lips down to trail over her neck and shoulder shyly. At her soft sigh of obvious pleasure, he gained confidence and nibbled at her pulse point, shocked when she grabbed his hair in her hands and let her head fall back.

Drawing back slightly, he met her eyes and swallowed hard, licking his lips.

"Erik, I love you…" she murmured, and he trembled, tears filling his eyes as he curled against her instead, embarrassed at how her words were affecting him, but unable to keep from giving a soft sob.

"Oh God, Christine," he managed to murmur without his voice breaking too badly, "no one has ever loved me…"

She shushed him softly, rubbing his back and moving her fingers through his hair slowly.

"Shhh, well _I_ love you, you won't ever be alone again…" she purred, and he snuggled a little closer, pushing his marred face into her neck, "My Erik…"

They sat that way for a long time, Christine gently rocking back and forth, until Erik's tears stopped and he fell into a contented sleep. Smiling, Christine kissed his forehead and joined him in slumber.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Phantom.

_**Chapter Nine**_

XXX

"Don't worry, no one will need to see you."

It was three days later that Christine came home, telling Erik that Monsieur Reyer had given her the name of a desperate publisher. Erik had spent hours writing out several pieces of music that had only ever lived in his mind, and now as he handed them to Christine, he was having second thoughts.

"Are you certain? What if they see the music and want to meet the man who wrote it? I can't let them see me, Christine…"

The small woman sighed, stomping her foot. "Honestly, Erik! You wanted a job, and here one is! Life is all about risks, isn't it?"

She was right. His music could be seen by the world, he could support the woman he loved, maybe someday even dare to ask for her hand in marriage…

Handing the music to Christine, he stroked her cheek. "You'll take it to the publisher now, then?"

She laughed, nodding and throwing her arms around his waist. "Of course. I'll be back in but an hour."

He watched as she rushed from the house and flagged down a carriage, and retreated to the sitting room to pick up a book and began to read.

Thus was his ascent into society. A swell of pride filled his chest, and he closed his eyes, a smile etched across his lips.

He'd come so far, from the filthy man in the cage, gawked at, mocked, feared and reviled. Erik knew that from now on, things would be looking up.

Now, he just had to figure out how to be a normal man.

_Why do I have the feeling this is going to be easier said than done…?_

XXX

"Christine!"

The Vicomte walked quickly forward down the street, his cane in one hand and his top hat in his other. He'd watched Christine step out of a carriage, and he rushed to her side, taking her arm.

"I haven't seen you in days, where have you been?" he asked, and she turned, looking up at him with wide eyes and clutching the music in her hand.

"Not now, please Raoul. I'm on an errand of great importance." She said, pulling away from him and walking down the street to the publisher. Raoul kept up beside her, surprised at her obvious distaste in seeing him.

"Well, once your errand is finished, I'd like very much to take you out. Perhaps somewhere for some dinner and dancing?" he asked, eyes bright.

Christine sighed, stopping and looking up at him reproachfully.

"I'm sorry, Raoul, but I've made plans for the evening."

"Again?" he looked crestfallen, and Christine frowned, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Raoul, I don't want you to court me any more. I'm sorry, we had fun as children, and I honestly have enjoyed seeing you again these past few months, after so long apart… after father died… but I'm not interested in you, not in that way… please. Just leave me alone."

Raoul's eyes flew wide open, and he gasped. "What? But Christine, I thought that you loved me!"

"No, Raoul. I did not ever tell you that I loved you, you just assumed-"

"But-"

"Please, no arguments, Raoul. I must go." With that, she pushed open the door to a small building, and left Raoul standing stunned on the streets.

XXX

Erik slept easily, laid back on the sofa with a book open on his chest. Christine smiled down at him, kneeling at his side and lifting the mask from his face.

His eyes fluttered open, and Erik jumped, than sighed in relief when he saw it was only Christine.

"Everything is taken care of." She murmured, and he smiled broadly, taking her hands and kissing her fingers. Christine grinned, helping Erik to sit up, than crawling into his lap.

She'd been almost ready to burst with excitement the whole carriage ride home, and she'd nearly had to sit on her hands to keep from fidgeting too much. This was so wonderful! She had been so concerned for Erik ever since bringing him home from the circus, worried that he would never come out of his shell completely for her, or poke his head out into the world to get a real taste of freedom, but now it seemed her fears were for nothing. It wasn't much, but small steps still took one forward, she knew.

Looking up into his eyes, delirious in her joy, she battled her eyelashes at him, smiling sweetly as she brushed a lock of wispy, sparse hair from where it had settled over one eye.

"Are you happy?"

Instead of speaking, Erik kissed her passionately, running his hands down her back, then moving his lips down her neck. "Very happy…" he whispered as she squirmed on top of him.

Kissing her again, she pushed her chest against his and shivered. "Oooh. Erik, what-what are you doing...?"

He lifted his head to meet her eyes, and he smirked at her. "Don't you recognize this? It's how Davis seduced Martel in the book you've been reading…"

She colored and laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning her head back to meet his enflamed gaze with a look of mock-consternation.

"You're seducing me, good monsieur?"

He blanched. "Oh! No-no, of course not, that would be highly inappropriate, I mean-"

She cut him off with her lips, kissing him eagerly and rubbing at the back of his neck. Erik melted against her, whimpering very softly as he drew her tightly to his chest, relieved as he realized a little too late that she had been teasing. When would he be able to read other's the way everyone else could?

The kiss broke several moments later, and Christine smiled, kissing his forehead before lifting off of his lap. Her cheeks were pink, and her breath came in and out in becoming little pants. Steadying herself, she smoothed down her skirts. She knew that if she wanted to keep her virtue intact, it was time for a change of pace. And while a part of her wanted to quite forcefully make her virtue _un_-intact, she knew that this was not the time. Neither of them were quite ready for such a large step, things were too fragile. Taking in a slow, calming breath, she met his gaze and smiled.

"I'll go make us some supper."


	10. Chapter Ten

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Phantom, but this story is all mine!

_**Chapter Ten**_

XXX

Supper was very simple, and Erik finished eating quickly, eager to pick up where they had left off an hour ago on the sofa. The thought of having her softness pressed to his chest, her warm, plump lips against his own and their breath mingling was enough to enflame him entirely.

Standing up from the table, he pushed in his chair and moved behind Christine, resting his hands on her shoulders. He felt her tense beneath him for a moment, then relax and lean her head back against his chest. Looking up at him, she smiled sweetly and took her napkin from her lap, then stood and put her hands against Erik's chest.

"Yes?"

He smiled, bending his head to meet her lips with his own, and he sighed softly as her arms came up around his neck.

"Mmmm. Christine, I do love you so…" he breathed, and she smiled, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

"I love you too." She whispered, and gasped in surprise as Erik suddenly scooped her up, carrying Christine from the kitchen and through the small house. Reaching her bedroom, he laid her down gently on the bed, then sat beside her and ran his fingers through her hair.

"I've been thinking." He said softly, and Christine took his hands, holding them against her chest.

"What about?"

He took a deep breath. It was time, he knew. Christine had been making so many sacrifices for him, for his comfort and his happiness. He had noticed how she looked out the window longingly sometimes when a couple would walk by, arm in arm. Or the way she would put a hand to her chest, cheeks pink with a happy, besotted glow when she would read about scenes of romance in her beloved novels. It was time that he stood up as a man and made some sacrifices, too. His own comfort be damned.

"I have been giving thought to being cooped up here all day. I think… I think that I should go out of the house on occasion."

The smile that broke out across Christine's face was enough to make tears fill Erik's eyes.

"Oh Erik, I'm glad! We could go out for supper tomorrow night, and you could come see me at the Opera! And then we could go for a walk through the bois and… Erik!" she cried, sitting up to fling her arms around him and squeeze him close.

Breathing in the scent of her hair, he held Christine close and nuzzled her neck, before gently lowering her back, so her head rested on the soft feather pillow. Instead of sitting back up, he braced his weight on his forearms, positioned on either side of her head, and remained over her, their faces mere inches apart.

"That sounds wonderful," he murmured, kissing her shoulder and delighting in her soft gasp of pleasure. Her obvious joy at the thought of his company, of being on his arm in the city emboldened him, and he smirked as he gave the fleshy place where shoulder met neck a nibble, "do you like that?" he whispered, voice husky, and he watched her nod.

"Yes, but you should stop…" she replied, and Erik shook his head.

"Stop? But Christine, I've only just begun." He rumbled, moving his lithe hands over her back, then trailing his fingertips across her flat stomach, before stroking down her strong, dancers legs.

"Oh… Erik, please. We can't." Christine breathed, pulling her head back as much as the pillow allowed and looking up him with pleading eyes.

He swallowed hard, nodding, and he placed on last peck on her forehead before sitting back up, folding his hands in his lap to hide his obvious pleasure in her body. "You're right. I'm sorry, I just-I'm not used to being able to touch…"

She nodded, sitting up in order to lay a finger over his lips. "Someday, I promise you. But not yet. Not now."

He nodded shakily, and laid back on the bed beside her, smiling as Christine folded herself into his arms and rested her head on his chest.

"Rest now, Christine…"

And as her eyes drifted closed, comforted and contented to be pressed against his warmth, Erik too shuttered his gaze, and drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Disclaimer**: Still don't own Phantom. Awww…

_**Chapter Eleven**_

XXX

"This way, Erik!"

He did _not_ want to be doing this. Erik found himself questioning what kind of insanity had been running through his mind when he'd told Christine he wanted to go out today.

_Perhaps the insanity of how adorable she was sitting by the window, looking out at the perfect weather while you sat in the darkness of the library like some sort of hiding beast? _He thought sardonically to himself as he allowed himself to be pulled down a busy city street toward a small café Christine had mentioned that she enjoyed.

But still, Erik could think of nothing but the people staring at him, and at his mask as he stumbled down the sidewalk behind her.

"Oh honestly, Erik. You're perfectly safe…" Christine insisted, turning to look at Erik and taking both of his hands in her own.

He nodded, unable to speak as he followed after her. The rest of the walk to the café was silent as Erik tried to keep up with Christine's quick pace.

Stepping inside, Christine sat down at a small table by a huge picture window and lifted her menu.

"Pick out what you'd like, Erik." She said kindly, and he fumbled on the table for a moment, before lifting the heavy paper up and beginning to read the different things curiously. A waiter came with water and Christine asked him to bring a pot of tea.

"Something to calm my companion's nerves." She had told the waiter, who nodded kindly, not seeing Erik's masked face behind the menu. Christine looked out the window at the bright spring day, watching shoppers passing back and forth, carriages gliding down the street and the few stray animals frolicking around looking for scraps.

The waiter brought the tea and Christine ordered a few pastries for herself. Erik lowered the menu and asked for some soup, eyes lowered to examine the hardwood table as the waiter stared at his mask for a moment, then nodded wordlessly and left.

Sighing, Christine poured two cups of tea and handed one to Erik, sipping her own and taking his hand over the table.

"It's all right, no one is going to hurt you here." She murmured, and Erik nodded slightly, eyes still trained on the patterns of wood grain, trying to calm his racing heart and breathe normally.

Suddenly they both jumped as shadows fell over the table from the window to their side. Looking up, Christine watched as several kids pressed against the glass, pounding and laughing.

"That man is wearing a mask!" came one muffled voice, and they all started shouting to him.

"Monsieur, monsieur, what is the mask for?"

"What are you hiding, monsieur?"

Erik's head lowered further, his breathing coming in tiny gasps. The jeering children reminded him of his years in the circus, the people groping through the bars of his cage, shouting to him…

"_Monsieur Gargoyle! Over here, look at me, let me see you!"_

_A half-eaten apple was thrown at him and a few more people laughed._

"_Are you hungry, monsieur Gargoyle?"_

"_Careful son, don't get too close, he could bite you." Came a man's voice._

_He curled in a ball, hiding his face in his arms and the crowd grew angry, their shouts drawing Javert, who came in with his bullwhip and began to savagely beat Erik with the pommel as well as the tails._

"_Show your face, you beast! Let them see what they paid for! Show your face!"_

"Show us your face, monsieur! Show it to us!"

Erik could feel the scars along his back and shoulders burning in memory of the pain, and he let out a choked sound, covering his ears with his hands and giving a low, sorrowful moan.

Christine jumped up, putting an arm around Erik's shoulders and helping him stand. Putting some money on the table, she helped Erik into his cloak and guided him to the front door, flagging down a hansom and doing her best to fend off the swarms of curious children, their hands reaching to grab for his mask.

A carriage finally stopped and Christine helped Erik in, then ordered the driver home, and quickly.

And the whole ride home, all Erik could do was sob.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Phantom.

**Notes:** before we start Chapter Twelve I want to address a question/statement I've received via reviews:

**Hard as Lighting, Soft as Candlelight:** I'm sorry that you think this story is so horrible. Perhaps if you want your Erik to be completely in line with the book/movie/whatever, you should stay away from AU stories. You must realize that the Erik you find in the cannon literature/media has been shaped by his experiences, as all people in the world are. If you take away the experiences that someone has, their personality is undoubtedly going to be altered. Erik in this story has never lived in the world as he did in Leroux, Kay, ALW or even Y/K (not to mention to other mediums that PotO has been incorporated into). Because he went from a childhood with psycho-mommy directly into over 30 years of being a circus freak, he never really even became a man.  
So, for the experiences that he has had, my Erik is quite in character. In fact, if I were to make him behave as he does in stories that follow cannon to some point, he would actually be incredibly out of character for this piece of fiction.  
Common sense, please.

_**Chapter Tweleve**_

XXX

He'd been in bed for days, and Christine didn't know what to do. He wasn't sick, but he acted as if he was too weak to even stand. Christine had taken time off of the opera to care for him, and spent her days at his bedside, dabbing at his face with a cool cloth, feeding him and holding him close when he'd suddenly burst into grieved tears that seemed to have no trigger. It was as if he was existing only in his own mind.

She didn't understand. The ordeal had been horrible, yes, and she knew that his times in the circus had been brought roughly to his mind because of it, but she didn't know why he was so depressed. Surely he was happy now?

Looking down at Erik, she watched him sleep and stroked her fingers through his thin hair, sighing softly and leaning down to kiss his forehead.

"Oh Erik…" she murmured, and she gasped when his hand grabbed hers tightly. She thought he'd been asleep.

"Christine…" he whispered, and his eyes fluttered open.

"Do you need anything?" she looked down at their entwined fingers and squeezed his hand lovingly, tears springing to her eyes when he sat up and flung his arms around her, clinging tightly and sobbing against her chest.

"Shhh… oh Erik, it's okay… no one will ever hurt you again, I'll keep you safe here…"

He only sobbed harder. "I'm supposed to protect you! How can I keep you safe from any harm if a group of children can reduce me to _this!_"

So that's what this was about. He felt weak now; thought Christine was ashamed of him.

"Erik, hush. That's completely silly. I love you, and you don't have to be an emotionless rock for me to feel that way. You don't have to protect me to make me happy." She cooed, and he sniffled, pushing his face into her neck.

"Oh Christine… all I want is to make you happy… make you proud to be with me. Why must I look this way, what have I done to deserve such punishment? Nothing, except being born!" he sniffed and Christine smiled, drawing back to look into his eyes.

"I am happy, Erik, and being with you makes me the most proud woman on earth. I don't think your face was a punishment from God, or a curse… maybe it was God's way of marking you for me… his way of bringing us together? If you didn't have this face, Erik… we would have never met. And I'm so glad we did meet, Erik. I wouldn't change a thing about you, were I given the chance, except perhaps to make you understand how handsome I find you, and how… desirable you are to me. To make you see yourself how I see you." Her cheeks were a becoming shade of pink from her words, but she boldly held his gaze.

He blushed a bit himself, and she kissed him gently, before helping him to lay back down. Adjusting the blankets, she smoothed his hair and began to sing softly to him, a melody her father sang to her, one that he said her mother sang when Christine was in the womb…

Erik's eyes fluttered closed as a look of complete rapture came over his features. He'd never heard her sing before, and it was beautiful! The most beautiful thing he'd ever heard.

"An angel…" he whispered, before slowly falling asleep.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Phantom.

_**Chapter Thirteen**_

XXX

"Yes monsieur, I'm quite sure it was him. He was just as gruesome as you've described."

"And you know where he's located exactly?"

"Yes. All I ask is that you bring the woman he's with to me. Unharmed."

XXX

"Do you want some sugar in your tea, Erik?"

Christine offered Erik the sugar bowl, smiling at him as he stirred a bit into his cup and sipped at it with a grin.

"Thank you." He murmured. It had been a few weeks since their outing, and Erik had calmed quite a bit, become a bit distant, actually. After realizing for sure that he still wasn't acceptable, his cheerful demeanor changed to a more solemn one. Christine had noticed, but done her best not to draw attention to his withdrawn behavior, hoping that it was only temporary.

Just as she stood up to bring a plate of fresh biscuits to the table, a sharp knocking came at the door. Erik rose and fumbled for his mask, eyes hard, but Christine touched his hand and shook her head.

"I'll get it. Just stay here."

He nodded and watched Christine go around the corner and out of the kitchen.

Christine sighed and pulled the door open, irritated that her lovely breakfast had been interrupted. And gasped as she was greeted by several all too familiar faces.

"Hello there, little mademoiselle. I heard from a very reliable source that you have my monster here."

Christine shook her head, backing up and lifting a hand to her face. "No, not you…"

Javert sneered. "Where is he?"

Erik went completely still in the kitchen. He knew that voice too well. Standing, he quickly rushed to the front door, and gave an angry growl when he saw Christine's arms being held behind her back by two of Javert's employees.

"Let her go." He hissed, and Javert snorted.

"There you are, monsieur Gargoyle. We've missed you. Come along, time to go home."

Advancing on Erik, Javert tossed a rope around his neck, pulling Erik down to the ground. He fought like an animal, lunging up and clawing at Javert as well as the ropes, snarling with wild eyes. His mask became dislodged quickly, and between his animalistic noises and the appearance of his face, the gypsy's holding the rope became a bit nervous.

It was also obvious that all the good feeding and fresh air had done Erik a lot of good, where he had been weak and gaunt before, he now had muscle and actual weight. And he was winning.

Suddenly a knife was at Christine's throat.

"Erik!" she cried, hating herself for becoming a trap, and when he looked up, her heart broke at the look of horror-and surrender-that came across his features before he hardened them.

"Do not struggle, monsieur Gargoyle, or we might have to break our promise to the Vicomte and slit her pretty throat." Javert hissed, and Erik seethed, but went limp.

"Come now, it's back to the circus for us, and off to the Vicomte with _you_." Javert said, pointing a finger at Christine.

"No! Please, just let me go, let us _both _go! We haven't done anything to you!"

Javert snorted, walking toward Christine until they were nose to nose. Grabbing her rather rudely around the waist, he stared deeply into her eyes.

"You stole my monster, mademoiselle. Stealing is a very bad sin."

And then something struck her across the head, and everything went black.

XXX

Christine didn't know how long she'd been here at Raoul's chateau. At least a day, maybe two. He'd kept her in a beautiful room, sent servants to bring her food and draw her a bath and pamper her entirely too much.

He hadn't come up to see her once since her arrival, and she was furious with her treatment. It was only now that she was getting ready for bed that she heard footsteps outside her door.

XXX

A few scraps of food were tossed through the bars, and Erik growled at Javert, who laughed.

"You will get used to life here again." He hissed before striding away, leaving Erik naked and shivering inside the cage.

"I _will_ kill you." He whispered after Javert had left.

XXX

"Christine, you will get used to life here."

Raoul had let himself into her room and stood beside the bed where Christine was crumpled, weeping.

"I will _never_ get used to this prison!" she wailed, and Raoul shrugged.

"So you say now. Soon, that monster will be only a distant memory."

XXX

A day passed, then another, and finally Erik had his plan perfected. He waited until Javert came to the cage before he acted. All during the last day, he'd worked on pulling up a board on the floor of his cage. Then he'd spent endless more hours grinding it against anything he could find, until it was narrowed down on one end to enough of a point that it would serve his purpose well.

When Javert leaned on the bars to jeer at Erik as he usually did, Erik crawled toward him, feigning illness.

"Oh no, monsieur Gargoyle. You cannot be sick." Javert said, arching an eyebrow. "How will you perform that way? Ah well, I guess it is nature's way to weed out the unfit… if you die, your corpse will bring crowds as well."

Erik suddenly thrust the sharpened board forward, grinning as it sunk into Javert's stomach. Grabbing the front of his jacket, Erik held Javert still so he could sink the wood deeper into his bowels, turning it a bit for good measure and delighting in the sick squishing that he could feel. Finally he let go of the wood and used his free hand to dig around in Javert's pockets until he found the keys to his cage.

Javert stared up at Erik as blood trickled from the side of his mouth.

"Murderer." He hissed, and Erik grinned, the expression feral, more animal than man, before letting go of his jailer and crawling to the cage door to let himself out.

Standing over Javert's now-dead form, he rubbed his hands together and spat at him.

"No, Javert… the unfit can survive as well."

XXX

Christine stared out the window, watching the sun set and wiping the tears from her cheeks.

_This is all my fault. I should never have let Raoul have a spare key! Then he and Erik would have never met…_

She was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of shouting in the yard. Opening the window, she looked out and gasped.

A half-naked man was riding on the back of one of Raoul's horses that had been out in the far field earlier that day. She nearly swooned as she caught a glimpse of the man's face.

It was Erik!

He was shouting at several of Raoul's men, and two of them ran into the house, presumably to fetch Raoul himself.

Erik gracefully dismounted and strode to the middle of the yard, staring at the front door. Christine's heart beat painfully in her chest as she watched him. Gone was the gentle face of the man she loved. He was filthy and wore a sinister smirk. His eyes were hard and glinted with a dangerous light that made her shiver.

Finally, Raoul emerged from the house, and Christine was too far away to hear what he said, but it was enough to make Erik scream with anger and lunge forward, knocking Raoul back to the ground and wrapping his hands around his neck.

Christine gave a soft cry of shock, jumping up and running to the door, which was locked. Running back to the window, she leaned out as far as she dared and looked down. She was on the second floor, there was no way she could jump out.

"Erik!" she shouted, but he didn't hear her through his rage and the sound of his own snarls and roars of fury.

Raoul did his best to fight Erik off, but he was brutally slamming his head into the ground over and over, his strangle hold still tight on his neck.

Sputtering, Raoul managed to get a leg up and kick Erik off, and he staggered to his feet.

By now, Erik had heard Christine's frantic shouts, and he turned, looking up at her and taking a few steps toward the window. He didn't notice Raoul coming behind him until he was knocked to the ground. He rolled Raoul over with ease, and delivered a quick punch to his stomach, then jumped up and ran under the window.

"Jump down! I'll catch you!" he called, and Christine immediately crawled out of the window, trusting Erik with all her heart despite the fact that she could see blood staining his hands and chest. Leaping down, she landed in his arms and he fell back, grunting and holding her close.

Raoul was rushing toward them again, and Erik quickly helped Christine onto the horse, then climbed on behind her and kicked the animal into motion.

"Where can we go?" he cried, and Christine clung to the horse's mane and turned her head to shout over her shoulder.

"I know just the place!"


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Phantom.

_**Chapter Fourteen**_

XXX

"Where are we going?"

Erik and Christine had been on the stolen horse for at least an hour now, riding from Raoul's country chateau to Paris. Both were thankful that night had fallen while they'd still been outside of the city, as very few people were on the streets now. Those who were seemed unconcerned by the couple on the horse galloping past. The darkness shaded Erik's face well, and he also hid it against Christine's back as best he could.

"Don't worry, Erik. I know the perfect place to go. No one will find us."

He sighed, knowing he'd get no more information than that from her. Instead he looked around, taking in the darkened city.

Another half-hour went by, and then Christine reined in the horse and slid off of his back, stumbling a bit until she regained her footing on the ground. Erik hopped down as well, and followed Christine as she led the horse into a barn. They were before a huge, beautiful building, and he blinked a few times. What was this place?

Christine bedded down the horse, then turned to Erik and took his hands.

"The last thing I ever want to do is make you hide because of your face. But I think that now, it's the only thing you _can_ do. At least until that ghastly circus leaves town."

He nodded in understanding, touching her cheek. "Where am I to hide?"

She gave him a slight smile and led him out of the barn and into a small door. They walked through a few winding passages, and then Christine opened a door and let him look inside.

There was a huge stage, and nearly a thousand seats that he could see.

"The… the Paris Opera…?" he breathed, and she smiled.

"Yes. There are five cellars below the opera house. During the wars they used the cellars as prisons, and tortured people there as well. I think we could find our way down and make somewhere for us both to stay, you a bit more permanently. The area is so spooky, and dirty and cold that no one ever goes in too far. It would be safe."

He nodded, trying to be in good spirits as much as he could in order not to upset Christine any further than he could see she already was. He was done being frightened, done letting her take care of him, it was high time he returned the favor and behaved like a man should.

"Shall we go, then?" he asked, offering his arm and hoping that the apprehension and fear he felt didn't show in his voice.

Christine gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as she led him to the cellar doors and brought him down, down, down…

XXX

A week had passed, and Christine had managed, with the help of Jean and a few other strong dancer friends, to move some of her furniture to the cellars of the opera under the cover of night. She and Erik had found a cavernous area far into the fifth cellar, past the deep underground lake, and this is where they'd decided to build their hideaway. They'd had to take a prop boat from the storage area just within the first cellar, and then Jean had made it "seaworthy" as he'd joked, but once they'd reached the other shore of the subterranean lake, the area was habitable enough.

They had hung curtains to mark different rooms through the area, there was a bed and dresser in one room, a wood stove in another, a desk and the beginnings of a music room as well…

Erik was hoping to get a piano, or even an organ soon, as he missed his music terribly (although he was aware that the logistics of getting such a large object not only into the cellars without being detected, let alone across the lake would be difficult to overcome).

Every night he would sing for Christine, and she would fall asleep. He longed to play a violin in the way he had in the dream he'd had before… play to her and lure her to his side, take her in his arms and make love to her…

But he knew that could not be. Not yet, and maybe not ever. After he'd failed to protect her, allowed her to be taken away and himself to be locked up once again, Erik wasn't sure he could ever forgive himself, let alone that Christine could ever put enough trust into him as a provider, as a man, in order to take him and his love for her seriously. After all, how could she?

XXX

"Erik, I'm back!"

Christine's voice rang out through the caverns. It was late in the evening, and she had just returned to the 'lair', as they'd begun to fondly call it, after a long day rehearsing with the corps.

Erik looked up from the papers on his desk and smiled, standing and moving toward her with his arms open.

"I'm glad. Come here, and show me how much you missed me." He teased, laughing as she jumped into his arms and kissed him sweetly on the nose.

Taking his hands, she led him to sit down on the small divan they'd bought, and she seated herself across from him.

"Erik, we've been so busy that we haven't had a chance to talk."

"About what?" He asked, tilting his head.

"About what happened that night. When you came for me. How did you escape?"

He shook his head, looking away and clenching his hands into fists.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Please, Erik. I'm just curious as to how you escaped after you'd been trapped there for over thirty years and never managed it-"

"_No_."

"Erik! You're being terribly unreasonable! I really think I deserve-"

"**No**!" he'd gotten to his feet and his eyes had went hard, just as dangerous as they'd been the night he'd nearly killed Raoul.

Christine squeaked, a hand to her throat as she scrambled back a bit.

"I refuse to talk about it. We will _not_ talk about it. Not one more **word** about it." He hissed, his eyes down to slits and blackened with his rage.

Christine swallowed hard, before getting to her feet and grabbing his lapels in her hands.

"You've no right to speak to me like that!"

He looked as if he was going to shout again, before his face went white and he sunk to sit down on the divan again, his eyes closed. Christine quickly sat down beside him and touched his face, stroking the marred flesh, than smoothing his sparse hair.

"Please, Erik."

Breathing heavily, he nodded.

"I-I killed him. I killed Javert."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Disclaimer: **Don't own Phantom.  
**  
Notes:** This chapter finally lives up to the rating. You have been warned.

ALSO, this chapter has been heavily edited, as I felt that such an important scene as the joining of Erik and Christine-body and soul alike-should be more detailed emotionally and the like. So enjoy a much better love scene.

_**Chapter Fifteen**_

XXX

"He's dead? You killed him, Erik…?

Christine had been silent for several tense minutes after Erik had admitted as to how he escaped, and he let out a soft sigh of relief when she spoke.

"Yes. It was the only way to escape, Christine. The only way to save you. I suppose I never did it before because I'd never even realized it was an option. What I fool I've been…"

She was pale, and her eyes darted around nervously.

"What happened after you killed him?"

He swallowed hard. "I took the key from him, let myself out, and went to find you right away." He didn't mention the desire he'd had to desecrate the body, to string him up for everyone to find in the morning, to show them all that he was not to be trifled with.

"You... left his body there, then?"

"He didn't deserve a burial." He hissed, and Christine frowned, cautious for a moment as she looked at him, before she softened. He was still the man she rescued… how could she judge him for doing what he needed in order to escape, and to rescue her?

"Oh Erik, my poor Erik…"

Then the tears were coming, and neither knew who was sobbing harder as their arms wound around each other. All the tension that they'd carried since the night she had orchestrated his escape was being released, and their lips met in a series of damp, desperate kisses.

It took several minutes for Erik to calm enough to speak, and even then his voice was choked with tears.

"Shh… you aren't angry with me, are you?"

She shook her head, burying her face into his neck before speaking with a muffled voice.

"Of course not. No, no Erik, I could never be angry with you for saving yourself, I only… you killed a man. It will take me some time to grow used to-"

Faltering, she fell silent and he nodded and kissed her cheek.

"Perhaps you should lie down and rest? You've had quite a shock, my dear."

She nodded absently, lost in thought as she stood and allowed Erik to help her into the bedroom. Once she was comfortable beneath the covers, Erik made to leave the room. He was caught off guard, however, by the tiny hand that grasped his sleeve.

"Lay with me?" Came Christine's soft voice, and Erik felt the tenseness in his body recede. If she wanted still to lie in his arms, she must not be too afraid of him or what he had done.

Moving to the edge of the bed, he removed his waistcoat and unbuttoned his shirt, then kicked off his shoes and lowered himself to lie at Christine's side.

"How did you do it?" she asked almost immediately as she folded herself into his arms.

"Do what?"

"Kill him… how did you do it?"

_That again._ Fighting the growing dread in his stomach, Erik held Christine a little closer.

"I pulled up a board from the cage floor, ground it against the bars until it was pointed enough, than stabbed him." He said simply, and he felt Christine flinch.

"Oh."

Sighing, Erik closed his eyes and prepared for a restless night.

So he was quite surprised when he felt warm lips against his own.

"But you're still gentle, you would never hurt me… would you?"

His eyes flew open and he felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. "How could you ask me that? I would _never_ hurt you. I could not. I could not hurt you any more easily than I could tear out my own heart, Christine."

She nodded, trailing her hands over his chest, lip caught between her bottom teeth and a nervous excitement in her eyes. This was the time.

"Show me that your touch is still gentle. Show me that you won't hurt me." She whispered, kissing him sweetly.

"How?"

She blushed prettily and leaned down to shyly whisper in his ear.

"Make love to me, Erik."

He felt his heart stop, then double in tempo.

"Christine," he fumbled for the right words, but panic overtook him, "we aren't wed, and I've never-that is, I haven't really the slightest clue as to how-"

"Shhh now, Erik." She laid her fingers against his lips, marveling at their softness, "my soul is already yours; our bond is stronger than any marriage. As for the other, we'll learn together."

"You-you're certain?"

She responded by taking his hand and guiding it to her breast.

He was undone then, and touched her eagerly, sliding his hands over her chest, then across her back. She arched under his touch, mewing softly in pleasure and making Erik grin and kiss her upturned lips.

"Christine…" he breathed, eyes slipping shut as he rolled over her body and felt their hips touch intimately. A soft, surprised sound slipped from her lips as she grasped the back of Erik's head and kissed him forcefully.

He was aware of a building pressure, no longer unfamiliar after spending so much time in her intoxicating presence, but this time it was filled with an urgency that made his head spin and his loins burn in anticipation.

_So this is lust…_

Glancing up to meet her gaze, he saw that Christine too was affected by the sensations evoked by the touch of their bodies together so entirely. He was aware that a better man would be sweeping her off of her feet, speaking flowery words into her ears about the way the light made her hair a golden halo, how her skin, pink and glowing in anticipation and need was enough to bring a fire through him the likes of which no man had ever known. But he was unable to speak, his tongue had turned to lead in his mouth. It was all he could do to continue breathing, and as it was, each inhalation was a rasping pant through his parted lips. He could taste her in the air. And she was his.

Within minutes both were undressed and Erik was shyly slipping his fingers between Christine's legs, shocked at the soft smoothness of her inner thighs, amazed by the way she opened beneath his touch, her legs parting and seeming to draw his fingers down to the warm, soft wetness that waited for him.

He watched Christine's face with rapt attention, taking in every detail of her flushed cheeks and moist, parted lips as she panted and writhed beneath his foreign and slightly unsure touch as he slowly moved his fingertips through her folds, dipping into the source of her heat before drifting back up to brush an area that seemed to send lightning throughout her body at the slightest touch. He longed to see what he was doing, from both an academic and passionate place, but felt that this was not the right time for such explorations. He set aside everything but his love for her, and his overwhelming need to become closer, even closer than they were now, to become a _part_ of her.

"Oh Erik… please, I cannot wait another moment…"

Her voice startled him from his thoughts and his head raised to take in her features once again. Her eyes were liquid darkness, wide and pleading.

So this was it, then.

The only problem was that he had just the most vague idea of what to do. Looking at her with helpless eyes, he gave a cry of surprised wonder when her tiny hand closed around his hardness.

"Put-oh God, Erik-put this inside of me..."

He moaned and nodded as he felt her fingertips tighten around him and tug just a little. A sensation not unlike losing consciousness rushed through him, leaving a slight ringing in his ears and making his eyes roll up into his head for a moment.

"I know," he managed to growl, voice lower than it had ever been before, "but how?"

Shivering, Christine guided Erik over her body and wrapped her legs around his waist, giving a small cry of shocked pleasure when his hardness pressed against her aroused flesh.

"With a gentle push, Erik began to drive himself against her heated and slick mons, a choked cry of pleasure flying from his lips as he found a rhythm against her body, a rushing sensation beginning to blind him to everything but the pleasure. Christine's hands on his upper arms, squeezing tightly broke him free enough to hear her words.

"-inside, Erik. You have to be inside of me!"

His hips moved back far enough for his fingers to replace them, and he rubbed again, until he found that molten core once more, and everything in his mind clicked.

With a nearly feral moan, he grasped his rigid flesh in his hand and guided the head of his manhood to that secret place, and gave a strangled grunt as he felt her hot, tight muscles clench around him. Pressing further brought him to resistance and he faltered, eyes flicking up to meet Christine's.

"Go-go ahead…" she whispered, voice pinched, and with a thick moan Erik thrust fully within her and cried out in pleasure, his voice drowning out Christine's gasping whimper of pain.

Looking at Christine then, Erik saw the tear-tracks on her cheeks and felt his blood run cold.

"Oh God, I've hurt you!" he gasped, ardor cooling as he tried to pull away.

"No, stay Erik. Its okay, it was supposed to hurt. I-I'm fine now. Please…"

Shivering, he pressed a loving kiss to Christine's lips as he slowly began to move within her. Rocking in and out of her tight warmth, Erik felt a delicious tingling heat spreading through his body. Judging by the look on Christine's face, she was feeling the same thing.

"Oh… don't-don't stop!" she cried suddenly, and Erik groaned, moving faster and tossing his head back. The feeling that things were about to end came over his consciousness and he fought for control, tightening his buttocks in an effort to stave off whatever was building, trying instead to focus on Christine and her wails of pleasure, her inarticulate cries of "almost, almost!"

He managed to prolong things for a minute, maybe two, before he lost control.

"Something is happening! Christine! Christine!"

With a great cry he felt a rush of pleasure fly through him and he fell on top of Christine as he spilled himself within her, giving erratic, deep thrusts that brought the head of his member hard against the opening of her womb as he came in great bursts. He was distantly aware of her soft gasping cry of completion as she clenched and spasmed around him.

The both lay for several minutes, silently catching their breath and feeling the heat that had been so intense within their bodies slowly recede.

"Oh, Erik…" Came her tiny voice several minutes later, and he shivered, stroking her cheek.

"I love you, Christine." He whispered slowly rolling to his back and whimpering in disappointment when their bodies separated. She moved to her side and kissed him sweetly, as she curled into his arms and closed her eyes.

"I love you too." she murmured, and just as she was falling asleep, he touched her arm.

"Sing for me?" He whispered, and with a loving smile, she complied.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Phantom.

_**Chapter Sixteen  
**_  
XXX

The morning sun did not shine on her face, yet Christine woke anyhow, blinking in the pitch-blackness around her and wondering if she was really opening her eyes.

Shifting slightly in the bed, she faltered when she felt warmth against her back. Quickly the night before came to mind and she flushed and turned. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough that she could see the outline of her bedmate. Erik was sleeping soundly, bare chest visible and the blankets tangled around his waist. His usually perfect hair was mussed and she smiled.

Christine had woken in Erik's arms every day since his first escape from the circus, but they had never been naked before each other before, and it changed things considerably.

Her face softening, she let her chest press to Erik's as she put a few kisses along his jaw line and cheeks.

She felt Erik's arms tighten a bit around her and she smiled, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze.

"Good morning." He whispered, voice thick and gruff from sleep. His eyes suddenly went wide when he realized they were both quite naked, and he scrambled back a bit, shocked that a certain part of him was _quite_ happy with the new sleepy arrangements.

"Oh! Last night, oh God Christine, do you regret it now? There's no way to regain what you lost."

She smiled gently, putting her fingers over his lips.

"Shh, I could never regret it. I told you long ago that we would experience that together eventually… I was ready, and you were, too."

He nodded shyly, still lying away from Christine. Boldly, she reached out beneath the covers to grab what she had felt so insistently against her abdomen moments before. "And, monsieur, I think you're ready now, too."

He flushed, gently moving her hand and clearing his throat.

"Yes, I was more than ready last night, but I cannot stop fearing that we should have waited, that you will grow to wish we hadn't-"

"Stop, Erik. I know you're used to waiting for the bottom to fall out of everything, but this won't go wrong. _We_ won't go wrong."

Nodding weakly, Erik drew Christine close again and for a long while they silent held one-another, until both grew too hungry and they ventured out of bed for something to eat.

XXX

After breakfast, Christine announced that she was going to clean the library. Erik nodded and went to read in the sitting room, knowing that Christine would come to him when she was finished. And anyway, the library was quite dusty…

XXX

Sneezing, Christine giggled as a plume of dust rose up into the air. Dusting all these shelves too longer that she thought it would. Sighing softly, she began to sing an old folk tune, lifting a stack of books to the shelf. She wasn't aware that her song had brought Erik to the doorway until she turned and saw him watching her with wide, loving eyes. She jumped and put a hand to her chest, gasping for breath.

"Oh, you startled me, Erik." She exclaimed, moving toward him.

"I apologize. I was drawn by your singing."

She flushed.

"You… your singing is amazing, and I just can't understand, why are you in the ballet chorus and not a diva? Why aren't you singing?"

She turned bright red. "I'm not that good, Erik. I couldn't be the prima donna. And anyway, that roll is already taken."

"I've heard that cow sing, Christine. With a little work you could easily get the manager's attention, you already sing better than her, but you must be so amazing that no one can ignore the perfection of your voice."

"Oh Erik, I haven't time to learn to sing. I'd have to sacrifice all my free time that I spend with you."

He fell silent at that.

"Give me some time to think, Christine. I will find a way.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Phantom.

**Notes:** Takes place two weeks after the last chapter.

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

XXX

"A violin, Christine. You heard me the first time. Surely there's one lying around somewhere up there that no one is using!"

"You're asking me to _steal_, Erik?"

Erik and Christine were not prone to arguments. That's why the steady raising of Erik's voice was making Christine more and more nervous. They'd simply been lying in bed, both too lazy to get up even though Christine had rehearsals with the corps de ballet in just a few hours. All had been going so well, and then Erik brought up wanting a violin. They didn't have the money for such a thing, and an argument quickly came about.

"It isn't as if they pay you enough for your talents, anyway."

"I refuse to steal from my place of employment. I'm sorry, but there has to be another way to get a violin. Why on Earth do you need one so badly?" Rising up from the bed in a huff, Christine searched around the small curtained off room for her clothes, finding stockings hanging off of a candelabra, her corset under the bed, and her dressing gown in a heap by the door. Memories of their furious lovemaking the night before softened Christine, and she turned to look at Erik.

"I need my music, Christine! I will die without it. Please, you don't understand! It's all I have!"

Angry once again, she stormed from the room, shouting over her shoulder, "You have _me_!"

XXX

_If she won't get me one, I'll get my own._

Those were on the only thoughts running through Erik's mind as he stalked through the labyrinthine passages and made his way to a store room he'd discovered a few weeks ago. He'd been able to find many interesting masks to 'borrow', and now he was hoping to find a much more fitting treasure.

Digging around through boxes filled with musty costumes, no longer in use, and searching dusty shelves, he jumped when he heard footsteps outside the door. Slipping back to mold into the shadows, he cursed softly when he knocked over a box filled with props. The resulting crash was enough to make whoever was outside the room gasp, and the door opened to reveal a tiny ballet dancer's silhouette by the light in the hall.

"H-hello?" she whispered, and Erik stayed completely still and silent in the shadows.

"Mon Dieu, this place really is haunted! Jammes was right!" The door slammed shut, and the scampering footsteps disappeared.

_That was close._

Relighting his candle, Erik continued his search, and gave a triumphant smile when he found what he was looking for. Opening the tattered case, he examined the violin and nodded to himself. It needed a bit of work, but soon it would make beautiful music.

Soon, Christine would sing.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Phantom.

**Notes**: Takes place a few hours after the previous chapter.

_**Chapter Eighteen  
**_

XXX

"The ballet girls are talking about a ghost."

Christine and Erik were seated on the divan, leaning against one another as Erik flipped through a few novels that Christine had brought him. They'd both been silent for so long, that Erik jumped at the sound of Christine's voice.

"Oh?"

_News travels fast..._

"Yes! Sophia and Jammes were talking about hearing a ghost inside the old prop room. Apparently he knocked some things over and made quite a fuss..." Her eyes were twinkling now.

"Hmm... how curious." Erik feigned interest in his book again, smirking.

"What were you doing in the prop room, monsieur?"

Erik snorted. "You think _I_ am a ghost?"

Christine heaved a heavy sigh and stood, walking across the room and stretching elegantly.

"No, I think you're a thief. What did you take?"

"Oh, an old violin."

The sound of the bedroom door slamming reverberated through the house, making Erik wince.

He wondered how comfortable the divan would be to sleep on...

XXXX

A night apart seemed to cool Christine's temper, and the next morning she made Erik breakfast. She watched as he polished and strung the violin and sniffed, obviously still upset that he'd stolen something from the place that had taken such good care of her over the years since her father had died.

"I need my music, Christine." Erik murmured, not looking up. Christine rolled her eyes.

"I think rehearsals are going to run a bit late this evening. Will you be alright here alone, or will I hear about the thieving ghost again?"

Glaring, Erik finished with the last string and brought the instrument to his chin, playing a gentle chord.

"Perfect."

It wasn't until Christine had left for rehearsals that Erik sat down with some paper and red ink and began to compose. He hadn't been able to write out his compositions for so long, and the happiness he found at knowing that he'd be able to not only remember the song later that evening, or even weeks, months from now, but also give it to someone else and they would be able to play it as well, made him grin broadly.

Yes, Christine would sing.

He would teach her.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Phantom.

_**  
Chapter Nineteen**_

XXX

Erik wasn't sure what was taking Christine so long.

She'd said that rehearsals would run a bit late that evening, but this was getting crazy! She was almost four hours later than usual, and Erik had half a mind to go up above and find her.

Of course, he'd never do so. The fear of being seen was enough that he cowered at the thought. He knew that the circus was still in town, and there were posters, Christine said, all around the heart of Paris with his information. He'd be spotted and taken in a second. Apparently, Javert's death did not detract the other employees and the co-owner from their dreams of success with Erik's face on display. They were not leaving without him, and Erik knew that it would only be a matter of time before something happened, someone slipped up, and he was in danger again.

And, according to Christine, Raoul had not withdrawn his patronage of the Opera Populaire, which meant that Christine was still in danger of the aristocratic fool trying to take her against her will once again.

Erik stretched a bit, standing from the wing-backed plush armchair that he'd pushed close to the fire a few hours earlier, and set his book aside. The fire had dwindled down, and he grabbed another log from the metal bin nearby, and tossed it into the dying flames, poking with the long metal rod until a few embers began to leap, and soon the flames were dancing high up the vent once again. Just as he was preparing to sit back down and return to _Wuthering Heights_, a book Christine adored and convinced Erik to read, he heard footsteps running across stone, and he smiled.

A moment or so later, Christine burst into the caverns, and rushed to Erik, cheeks pink from the cold of the cellars.

"Oh! I'm so sorry that I'm late, things ran even longer than I thought they would!" Erik quickly guided Christine to seat herself in the chair that was still warm from his body, and he grabbed a throw blanket from the divan a few feet away and tucked it around Christine snugly.

"You look frozen stiff. Where is your cloak?" his reprimand was gentle, as he brushed a few wayward locks of hair from her face and set his book back on the shelf.

"I forgot it in my dressing room, I was in such a hurry to come home and tell you the news!"

"What news?" Erik sat on the divan, folding his hands in his lap and watching her patiently.

"Carlotta, she's quit again! And this time, they don't think she'll be coming back. Opening night for Hannibal is in two weeks, and the managers are furious! The tickets are already sold out!" Christine's eyes were shining with worry and unshed tears. "We've all been working so long, and now we won't open for so much longer, several of the dancers aren't going to be able to keep up with the payments on their homes if we don't open on time! Half of them are living from paycheck to paycheck!"

Erik could read the desperation in her voice and expression, and quickly moved to soothe her.

"Shh, my dear… is there not an understudy?"

"No! Carlotta would not allow it, and no one knows the part…"

Erik was silent for several minutes, just standing and gathering Christine into his arms, before finally speaking. "Come, let us get you warm. I may have an idea…"

XXX

"No, my dear. You must sing from your diaphragm, not your chest. Try again."

"Erik, I cannot do this. I'm a dancer, I haven't sung since I was a little girl… they will never let me take the part, and even if they do there is no way I can be ready by opening night!"

Christine stomped her foot, glaring at Erik who was standing a few feet away with his violin to his chin.

"You must have confidence. A prima donna does not doubt herself!" Erik exclaimed, before giving her a severe look. "Now, again from the beginning."

He was teaching her to sing. Teaching her to replace Carlotta.

What on Earth was she getting herself into?


End file.
